What rhymes with disappointment? Calligraphy? Chocolate? I couldn’t find anything, while showering, that I could rhyme disappointment with.
Not that I am much of a rhymer, which is why I love haikus so much. They are so fucking simple.
Maybe I don’t get haikus, maybe I am missing the fine, delicateness that is a haiku.
But seriously, it just seems like another, rigid, incredibly formal and unchangeable art form from Japan. “This is how you write a poem. No other way!” It seems strangling, at best.
But it is so easy to do. So fucking easy. I am not a poet, except in the way I come up with new and wonderfully inventive ways to insult people. That is my calling, my art… but enough of that.
Five beats, the first line
And then seven in the next,
Repeat: five again.
Flor those aficionados out there thinking or blogging “that’s a shit haiku, you are missing the subtle art…” Shut up! Fuck off. I’m not a moron, I get there is a wonderful skill to write a haiku, but I think it’s restriction is it's downfall. You need to confine yourself so much, limit yourself to one standard size canvas, one woman (ha!). But then, sure you master it and it’s a wonderful (that word again, twice in two sentences) poem, but how dull.
And how fucking pretentious, writing a shit haiku to prove a point about how shit haikus are!!!!?
A whole movement of 5, 7, 5!!? Imagine if every band influenced by The Ramones played songs that were one minute and forty-seven seconds long and started off every, single, fucking song with “1,2,3,4” and all wore leather jackets and sunglasses? Imagine if a movement of music influenced by The Ramones was called “The Ramones’ Punk Movement” and that was shortened down to “Ramones’ Punk” which then became “Ramoning”? How awful would that have been? “Yeah, we’ve been Ramoning for years. Infact, our major influence was the The Ramones. Yeah, most people think it was the first female Ramoners band, The Simones, but no, it was the Ramones.” Imagine listening to that in an interview? I’d rather listen to Ginsberg arguing for paedophilia, or Ozzy arguing agianst the dilution of media by sub-cultural, segregated, Norse-horse-ranchers in a fictional, alternative universe, much like, lykke, Earth 38 in Infinite Earths? “Um, er Um, like, shit, like, I AM IRON MAN shit, um, yeah, um.” Yeah, I would much rather hear that. Imagine 50 Ramoners (including giants The Simones, The Pomades and Death Monkey Apokalsype) Ramoning Ramones covers in one gig? 50 bands, 3000 songs. All in 6 minutes. 1,2,3,4. 1,2,3,4. 1,2,3,4. Oh Oh Oh Lucy is a punk I’m mean Judy Oh Oh 1,2,3,4 the KKK oh oh 1,2,3,4some obscure Ramones song oh oh to show I am hardcore oh oh!
You would lose your fucking minds.
So I wrote this girl 4 haikus for her birthday. In one of them, I pondered her age, ‘cos I don’t know it.
Twenty-three? Sixteen?
Or forty seven? Eleven?
Nah, it’s twenty-four.
How fucking stupid is that? I should start my own Ramoners, and we could Ramone around the country side, yelling haikus to wondering horse ranchers, while Ramoning each other in the Ramone. Have you ever Ramoned a Simone? Wink wink, nudge nudge. No? well, form fists from both hands and … Scorchio? Jen Cur-cio? Or is it Sur-kio? Wink wink. Or maybe haiku a Ramoner? Is that possible? Would the purist Ramoners allow this breach of basic, Ramoning ideology?
Fuck, I don’t think so.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Chapter 13 – I don’t know if I like Drone Doom as much as Thrash Metal or It’s been a long time between drinks
I cannot remember when my head hurt so much. I even took some Nurofen at some point in the morning, but you got to take it before you sleep. Idiot! I was under my doona at least, but my shoes, my muddy!!! shoes were still on fuck! My eyes were so fucking heavy, so heavy and then my phone went off.
A message. Too blurry to read. I closed my eyes again.
And a few hours later, my eyes weren’t so blurry, and another message on my mobile (or cell for those reading this in the northern hemisphere, in a land who just inaugurated a non-retarded president WOOP WOOP!!). My body was sore, oh so sore, like it had been pulverised by giant, metal hammers, the kind you use on meat, whatever they are called. I checked my phone, and was able to read the message.
Hey Rudy, Its ****. Awesome sht lst nite, should drink again!
‘”Awesome shit first night”?’ What the fuck is this guy…ooh,’ I creaked. Oh oh oh. The second text was from him as well, shit he was eager.
* * * *
So I haven’t seen Sophie in a fair while, it feels like months actually. We were meant to have dinner together, but I had to cancel one time (due to work, seriously, that was the reason) and she cancelled another time. Plans were tentatively made; we were going to have dinner at a sweet little restaurant I love to frequent. She was going to call me.
Now, Sophie, as you all know, is my cousin. The normal rules or games applied/played when dealing with women do not mean anything here. They do not count. But it has been a long time since we even spoke. I happened to be walking past her old place recently and sent her a text message saying so. Nothing complicated or anything, a simple Hey, just happened to wander past your old place, remember that joint (you haven’t called me in a while) and was just remembering the good times there, the parties ( I actually feel neglected), the conversations, everything.
I didn’t write all of that, but my short message was meant to indicate all of those feelings, those sentiments, and basically let her know that I missed her.
I didn’t get a respons, and she recently… BORING. I will move on to the good part.
I did have a dream about her recently. I dreamed I was out with some friends, looking for places to eat. I was drunk, and we went to a wine bar, and the head waiter was a friend. He started giving us free red, on the house, and I noticed, while checking out the other constituents, that Sophie was there with her new boyfriend, Josie (remember her?) and some other randoms. I said hello to everyone, kissed everyone on the cheek, was most polite, and then returned to my friends.
A few minutes later, Sophie, in my dream, walks up to me, and in very formal and a little incorrect French, starts to congratulate me.
I really respect what you did there. You were incredibly polite, especially to Josie. Excellent.
I was of coursed shocked, but I also knew I was dreaming, so anything could happen.
I want to offer my apology, I have been remiss of late, what with work. I have
also started teaching refugee children English.
Her sentence was like that, words not necessarily in the right order.
She finished up and walked away. I remember her wearing a grey power suit,
with a white blouse, and looked great but very odd. Her apology as well, even in my dream, was fucked. Even in my dream I thought it was a pile of sticking shit. And then I woke up. I miss her.
I had a dream later on, the same night. I don’t know how it happened, but I was suddenly without legs. I was in hospital and my friends and family were visiting me, but all I could think about was not living without my legs. I thought about home. I thought about places I like to frequent. None of them accessible by wheel chair. I dreamed of buying a fuck load of heroin and OD-ing, but I don’t have the capacity to do that. I thought about blowing my brains out and leaving a note saying Well, I ain’t gonna live like this, fuck that! I don’t think my mums would like that.
* * * *
My friend Ioju, invited me out for drink a couple days later (later then what, I don’t know) and who should be amongst those invited? Alanna. Hot dog.
‘Hey Rudy, how are you doing?’ she smiled.
‘Fine, I didn’t think I would see you here?’ I was surprised, and hid it incredibly unwell.
‘Well, here I am.’
This kinda hung in the air.
‘Oh shit, how are you doing?’ I blurted out. Alanna laughed, and I cursed myself inwardly for my idiocy. Someone called out her name, ‘Alanna.’
‘Rudy, I’ll be back.’ She spun on her heels and headed towards the voice, someone else at the party. I got myself a drink, and Ioju floated back, and we started talking about something. I cannot remember. I was looking away, towards Alanna and just admiring her.
Staring if you like. I prefer admiring. Her skin was light, but not white. It looked soft and so inviting. Her lips were just right, full, not too full, but inviting, so inviting. I kept staring at her lips, admiring. My eyes were focused, but moving slowly upwards. Her nose, well, her nose was kinda boring, nothing really going on there, but the a smile suddenly illuminated her face. Her nose looked much cuter that way. Ioju tapped me on the shoulder.
‘You listening to me, New Zealand was crazy man?’
I looked at him, his big smile and glasses -such a warm face -nodded, and looked back at Alanna, to continue my focusing. I moved away from her nose, she was no longer smiling and realised why. She was looking straight at me. She gave me an inquisitive look, a raised eyebrow quite possibly.
I started gesturing wildly, but statically. Like doing the Robot while trying to communicate to someone on the other side of the bar.
I must have looked stupid, but Herbie H would have been down with it.
‘Rudy, what are you doing?’
‘Huh, oh, ah nothing. I was listening to you, and, um, looking over there, and then Alanna was like, “Hey” (I then demonstrated a wave, so he knew what a greeting looked like) and I was like, “Hey, I am busy talking to Ioju yo” (made a face that kinda said, “Women, gosh darn it, they really want me you know? Gosh I am awesome”)). Chicks man?’ I shrugged my shoulders and sipped my beer.
Ioju, however, was not an idiot, like me.
‘Right, sure man.’
A message. Too blurry to read. I closed my eyes again.
And a few hours later, my eyes weren’t so blurry, and another message on my mobile (or cell for those reading this in the northern hemisphere, in a land who just inaugurated a non-retarded president WOOP WOOP!!). My body was sore, oh so sore, like it had been pulverised by giant, metal hammers, the kind you use on meat, whatever they are called. I checked my phone, and was able to read the message.
Hey Rudy, Its ****. Awesome sht lst nite, should drink again!
‘”Awesome shit first night”?’ What the fuck is this guy…ooh,’ I creaked. Oh oh oh. The second text was from him as well, shit he was eager.
* * * *
So I haven’t seen Sophie in a fair while, it feels like months actually. We were meant to have dinner together, but I had to cancel one time (due to work, seriously, that was the reason) and she cancelled another time. Plans were tentatively made; we were going to have dinner at a sweet little restaurant I love to frequent. She was going to call me.
Now, Sophie, as you all know, is my cousin. The normal rules or games applied/played when dealing with women do not mean anything here. They do not count. But it has been a long time since we even spoke. I happened to be walking past her old place recently and sent her a text message saying so. Nothing complicated or anything, a simple Hey, just happened to wander past your old place, remember that joint (you haven’t called me in a while) and was just remembering the good times there, the parties ( I actually feel neglected), the conversations, everything.
I didn’t write all of that, but my short message was meant to indicate all of those feelings, those sentiments, and basically let her know that I missed her.
I didn’t get a respons, and she recently… BORING. I will move on to the good part.
I did have a dream about her recently. I dreamed I was out with some friends, looking for places to eat. I was drunk, and we went to a wine bar, and the head waiter was a friend. He started giving us free red, on the house, and I noticed, while checking out the other constituents, that Sophie was there with her new boyfriend, Josie (remember her?) and some other randoms. I said hello to everyone, kissed everyone on the cheek, was most polite, and then returned to my friends.
A few minutes later, Sophie, in my dream, walks up to me, and in very formal and a little incorrect French, starts to congratulate me.
I really respect what you did there. You were incredibly polite, especially to Josie. Excellent.
I was of coursed shocked, but I also knew I was dreaming, so anything could happen.
I want to offer my apology, I have been remiss of late, what with work. I have
also started teaching refugee children English.
Her sentence was like that, words not necessarily in the right order.
She finished up and walked away. I remember her wearing a grey power suit,
with a white blouse, and looked great but very odd. Her apology as well, even in my dream, was fucked. Even in my dream I thought it was a pile of sticking shit. And then I woke up. I miss her.
I had a dream later on, the same night. I don’t know how it happened, but I was suddenly without legs. I was in hospital and my friends and family were visiting me, but all I could think about was not living without my legs. I thought about home. I thought about places I like to frequent. None of them accessible by wheel chair. I dreamed of buying a fuck load of heroin and OD-ing, but I don’t have the capacity to do that. I thought about blowing my brains out and leaving a note saying Well, I ain’t gonna live like this, fuck that! I don’t think my mums would like that.
* * * *
My friend Ioju, invited me out for drink a couple days later (later then what, I don’t know) and who should be amongst those invited? Alanna. Hot dog.
‘Hey Rudy, how are you doing?’ she smiled.
‘Fine, I didn’t think I would see you here?’ I was surprised, and hid it incredibly unwell.
‘Well, here I am.’
This kinda hung in the air.
‘Oh shit, how are you doing?’ I blurted out. Alanna laughed, and I cursed myself inwardly for my idiocy. Someone called out her name, ‘Alanna.’
‘Rudy, I’ll be back.’ She spun on her heels and headed towards the voice, someone else at the party. I got myself a drink, and Ioju floated back, and we started talking about something. I cannot remember. I was looking away, towards Alanna and just admiring her.
Staring if you like. I prefer admiring. Her skin was light, but not white. It looked soft and so inviting. Her lips were just right, full, not too full, but inviting, so inviting. I kept staring at her lips, admiring. My eyes were focused, but moving slowly upwards. Her nose, well, her nose was kinda boring, nothing really going on there, but the a smile suddenly illuminated her face. Her nose looked much cuter that way. Ioju tapped me on the shoulder.
‘You listening to me, New Zealand was crazy man?’
I looked at him, his big smile and glasses -such a warm face -nodded, and looked back at Alanna, to continue my focusing. I moved away from her nose, she was no longer smiling and realised why. She was looking straight at me. She gave me an inquisitive look, a raised eyebrow quite possibly.
I started gesturing wildly, but statically. Like doing the Robot while trying to communicate to someone on the other side of the bar.
I must have looked stupid, but Herbie H would have been down with it.
‘Rudy, what are you doing?’
‘Huh, oh, ah nothing. I was listening to you, and, um, looking over there, and then Alanna was like, “Hey” (I then demonstrated a wave, so he knew what a greeting looked like) and I was like, “Hey, I am busy talking to Ioju yo” (made a face that kinda said, “Women, gosh darn it, they really want me you know? Gosh I am awesome”)). Chicks man?’ I shrugged my shoulders and sipped my beer.
Ioju, however, was not an idiot, like me.
‘Right, sure man.’
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